


Filled with Light

by Thymesis



Series: Star Wars Rare Pairs Collection (NC-17) [18]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Chocolate Box Exchange 2018, F/M, Force Bond (Star Wars), Force Ghost! Luke, Force Sex (Star Wars), Humor, Incest, M/M, Multi, PWP, Pining, Post-Star Wars: The Last Jedi, Treat, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-14
Updated: 2018-02-14
Packaged: 2019-03-01 09:35:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13292061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thymesis/pseuds/Thymesis
Summary: “Tell me we’re not doing this now.”Ben grunted.“Yuck! Could you point that someplace else?”“Has it ever occurred to you that, from my point of view,you’rethe one invadingmyprivacy?”Rey catches Kylo Ren at an awkward moment. It becomes even more awkward when a ghostly Luke Skywalker appears.





	Filled with Light

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fingalsanteater](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fingalsanteater/gifts).



> Two prompts written for the price of one! I hope you don’t mind; this was too tempting an idea to resist.

“Tell me we’re not doing this now.”

Ben grunted.

“Yuck! Could you point that someplace else?”

“Has it ever occurred to you that, from my point of view, _you’re_ the one invading _my_ privacy?”

Rey huffed an indignant non-response.

“That’s what I thought. Feel free not to look if you don’t like the show.”

Problem was, this was at least the sixth time she’d been privy to said show since fleeing Crait on the Falcon with the tattered remnants of the Resistance. It was always the same: She’d be lying in her sleeping berth—by herself, thank you very much—and minding her own business, and then all of a sudden she wouldn’t be by herself in her sleeping berth anymore.

Because Ben Solo—she refused to think of him as Kylo Ren—would be lying alongside her, close enough that, if she wanted to, she could reach out and touch him. Not that she ever had. Not that she wanted to.

He wasn’t actually there anyway. This was just a trick of the Force, and he was actually in his own bed, safely ensconced somewhere in some First Order stronghold halfway across the galaxy.

Wherever he actually was, though, he was naked.

And masturbating.

So, given the circumstances, nope, Rey _definitely_ didn’t want to touch him. She didn’t. Honest.

Rey squeezed her eyes shut tight. Unfortunately, that helped matters rather less than one might wish. She could still sense his presence, still smell him, indefinably masculine, all piquant spice and animal musk. And she could still hear him, the rustle of a determined hand moving up and down engorged, eager flesh, the sigh, the soft hitch of indrawn breath…

“Not that you’re such a great haul or anything, don’t get the wrong idea,” she declared to the insides of her eyelids, “but have you considered finding a girlfrien—”

“ _Ben._ ”

Rey flinched; she recognized that voice! No, it couldn’t be—! Her eyes flew open—

Luke Skywalker.

He was younger than Rey remembered him being on Ahch-To, his clothing finer, his hair and beard less gray and more carefully groomed. The outline of his body was limned in faint blue radiance, and he felt…like pure light.

Ben could see him too. He looked trapped, frozen in place, one hand still ridiculously curled around himself like he’d lost track of what he’d been doing and it had gotten stuck.

“Y-you’re n-not r-really h-here,” Ben stuttered. “Y-you’re dead. I felt you die, old man!” he continued, his conviction strengthening. “You’re gone forever.”

“No one’s ever really gone,” Luke replied as he stepped closer to Ben, “and sometimes, it is given to us to correct mistakes we have made, to do what we should have done a long time ago.” He was weeping, Rey realized. Then Luke took Ben’s face between his two hands and kissed him.

On the lips.

Rey’s jaw dropped. She cursed inwardly. This was going to mean a fight for sure, and Rey didn’t know if she could—

Except…Ben wasn’t resisting. Quite the contrary, in fact.

“Master,” he moaned like a wounded, broken thing, wrapping his arms around Luke and pulling him down on top of him. “ _Luke_.” His lashes fluttered against his cheeks as his eyes closed. He opened his mouth and returned Luke’s kiss with ardor.

Hmm. Well, that certainly did explain a lot.

This time, Rey decided to watch the show.

Other than a rapid opening of the front of Luke’s voluminous robes, there were few preliminaries. Ben seemed eager to skip straight to the main event, squirming restlessly, arching, and pushing himself into Luke like all he wanted in the galaxy was to get closer, closer, closer, and Luke, in turn, seemed willing to oblige him. Rey couldn’t see that first moment of penetration because Ben’s lifted, outspread legs blocked her line of sight, but she could see his expression contort as he was filled, and she could hear the thin, high-pitched cries of mingled pain and pleasure…

Once they were joined, though, Luke seemed to decide that he wasn’t in any hurry after all. He barely moved, and Ben seized his shoulders, fingers knotted in the fabric, twisting, tugging at him, urging him to continue.

“Please!” he begged, more desperate than Rey could ever have imagined him sounding.

Luke bent forward at the waist and rested his forehead against Ben’s. Then he began to thrust. Steady, slow, and strong.

Ben gasped, openmouthed…

…and so did Rey. She could feel his pleasure.

Not the physicality of the intercourse. Nothing so vulgar as that. But she could feel the long, cold years of Ben’s loneliness as Snoke’s apprentice, his terror of his own inadequacies, his weaknesses, being burnt away by newfound passion with the being he’d always loved most in the whole of the galaxy. The roiling, angry, unstable darkness at the center of him was gradually being replaced, no, _filled_ with radiance. With light. With the very essence of Luke himself.

Rey shuddered as sympathetic heat began to pool low in her belly. Her inner muscles throbbed and pulsed hungrily, as if they too were demanding similar treatment. She slipped a hand down between her legs, shocked by how wet and swollen she’d become simply by watching. The sensitive bulb of her clitoris was already unhooded and pushing up through the protective thatch of hair, and the velvet flaps of her inner labia were already flared wide. She surrendered to the rising urgency of her needs and started stroking herself sensuously.

Ah, that was lovely. Rey sighed.

Ben’s head turned toward her, eyes open. He was flushed an ugly red, and his body jerked rhythmically with the force of Luke’s thrusts, each arduous plunge inward punctuated by the sharp slap of flesh against flesh, each withdrawal a torment of loss until the next thrust filled him to bursting once more. He seemed so tense, straining, that Rey was amazed that he hadn’t ruptured a blood vessel. Yet his gaze on her was steady, and she could see him acknowledging her arousal. Those brown eyes looked almost soft, almost…tender.

“Rey.” Ben stretched out a hand to her—but not to try to touch her. It was a silent plea. He wanted to make her an offer; yes, he wanted her to join them. Him.

Instinctively, she made to take his hand. Before their fingertips could meet, however, she pulled back abruptly, throat constricting beneath the weight of old fears. She remembered all too well what Luke had done—how he’d sensed what was happening and how disapproving he’d been of it—the last time they’d tried reaching out for each other.

This time, though, in spite of their seeming proximity, Luke didn’t acknowledge her. Did he even know she was watching, that she was there through the strange Force connection she and Ben shared? Or did he simply not care? Either way, he seemed entirely focused on Ben, Ben, Ben, his hopes and needs and desires.

Rey didn’t matter.

Except to Ben. Who, at this very moment, was staring at her with undisguised longing even as Luke’s thrusts into him were accelerating rapidly toward exquisite climax. Somehow, he’d come to want her as much as he’d ever wanted his former teacher.

“Please,” Ben whispered.

He wanted to be taken and filled with her light too. _With Rey’s_.

That dawning realization was irresistible. Rey’s trembling hand grasped Ben’s, and their fingers intertwined, and they both held on for dear life as near-simultaneous orgasm overtook them. For Rey, it was like being hit by a blaster set to stun, like being thrown into hyperspace without a safety harness, like being shattered into a thousand razor-keen, mirror-bright shards, and she shrieked through clenched teeth, overwhelmed by the doubling, tripling, quadrupling of sensation. It was ecstasy. It was agony. They were caught in a mutual positive feedback loop. She didn’t think she could stand it an instant longer—

The connection broke, and once more, Rey was alone in her sleeping berth, lying flat on her back, spread-eagled, sweaty and panting. The truth of what had just happened was a warm, slick river between her legs.

“An impressive performance, Ben,” she said to the ceiling.

Rey rolled onto her side and snuggled into her pillow. Orgasms made her sleepy, and in only a few short minutes, she was dreaming.

It went without saying who featured most prominently.

 

END

**Author's Note:**

> Posted to the exchange on January 17, 2018.


End file.
